Ron Musn't Ever Find Out
by kalebxdd
Summary: After Ron leaves Harry and Hermione during their search for the Horcruxes, both of them feel lonelier than ever before. With Christmas Eve around the corner they cannot help but look for comfort with one another. But neither Ron nor Ginny should ever learn about this. Rated M for a reason.


There was a lot of silence these days. As the nights had turned longer even the birds had taken their summer flights, leaving the forests void of their song and blanketing the winter landscape in a dead quiet.

Harry sat outside of the tent, at times whistling to himself, at others humming the melody of a song he had learned during his days at Muggle schools. Anything to keep his thoughts at bay; the silence made it too easy for him to drift off and think unpleasant things. The Horcrux around his neck was pulsing like a second heart, matching the drumming of his own and seeming to breathe in a slow, painful death rattle.

Ron was gone. He had been gone weeks now and Harry had lost but all hope of his return. Despite how Ron had behaved in the time before his departure, he had been responsible for most of the life in the air. Even his cursing had been done with a passion. Now that he was no longer around the atmosphere in their little camp was beyond deceased; it was decomposing.

Harry hucked a stone at a nearby tree. It missed by a wide margin and Harry scoffed, thinking to himself that it was fortunate that he had been elected Seeker instead of Chaser. Then he berated himself for allowing such useless things as Quidditch slip into his mind. He should be trying to figure out a way to destroy the Horcrux that was currently adding to his misery, or find out where a next one might be. But it was hard. He needed Hermione, but Hermione needed Ron.

The fervor with which she had conducted herself during the search for the first Horcrux had disappeared. No longer did she run around and about, her bushy hair held together with a tie and her eyes sparkling with a sense of bewilderment. Now she only sat in her chair, a cup of tea by her side and the book that Dumbledore had given her in her lap. Harry had felt the urge to ask her about it at times, but he could not see the link between these shabby old pages and their hunt for the fragments of Voldemort's soul. He wondered why she was still occupying her time with it, but she would just reverse the roles and ask him why he did nothing but throw rocks at trees. They were caught in a rut.

Right now they were not too far away from Hogsmeade. In fact, they had made camp in the Forbidden Forest Harry had asked Hermione whether or not that was a bright idea; Harry had overheard wizards talking in the streets of Muggle villages and apparently Hogsmeade was under strict Death Eater control. Not to mention the amount of creatures within the Forest who wouldn't hesitate to tear a human to shreds. There was an elevated risk of getting caught. Hermione had replied that all would be fine as long as they stuck to their safety precautions, so they had set up their tent and had placed the protective spells and enchantments. So far they had not been discovered.

They had been here for three days so far. Harry didn't mind. They had become so accustomed to staying only overnight that sleeping in was a welcome change of pace. He had taken it upon himself to venture out into the Magical village the day before, but he had been sorry of his decision the second he set foot between the shops. Most of them were deserted or boarded shut. Others had the faces of Death Eaters looking out through the windows, their eyes prying for any Undesirables. That they wouldn't find him under his Invisibility Cloak was not at all reassuring.

There was one redeeming factor, though. The Three Broomsticks was still in business and Harry had managed to sneak in after Madame Rosmerta. He had nicked half a case of Butterbeer and several packets of sausages. He had planned on giving them to Hermione straight away, but then something caught his attention. Whatever parts of Hogsmeade were still in use were decorated with green and red and gold. It was almost Christmas.

Harry had left as soon as he had come, taking a detour for fear of encountering Hagrid or one of the Hogwarts professors. As he did so, he decided that he would treat Hermione to a special night, Merlin knew she deserved one. He would cook her up something nice -she had taught him how to cook meat without burning it to a blackened crisp- and keep the mood of the evening light. Perhaps a night away from their troubles would help them to raise morale.

Harry sighed, watching the last weak rays of sunlight that had managed to push their way through the clouds recede along the horizon. The blanket that he draped over his legs was providing less and less warmth. It was time to go inside and get food on the table. His back was stiff when he rose and he held a hand to it, feeling like an old man.

The tent was warm and inviting from the second he stepped inside it. They had managed to acquire a dingy brazier a few weeks back so now they had a place to build a fire. A kettle was dangling above the golden fingers of the flames, licking the grimy metal and heating the water inside for what was probably Hermione's seventh cup of tea of the day. The girl herself sat curled up into an armchair, much like Harry had expected. Dumbledore's book of runes lay open in her lap, but her eyes were not really deciphering the content. Chance was that she had just woken up from a nap she hadn't intended.

Harry moved about the tent without disturbing her rest too much. He drew the kettle from the fire and magicked a frying pan from Hermione's beaded bag. He put it over the brazier and dumped the first load of sausages inside. As soon as the fat began to sizzle, he strolled over to the table which they had largely ignored until thus far. They just hadn't seen a proper use for it before. Now Harry draped an old bedsheet over it and set it with the few plates that Hermione had managed to scrape together before their sudden departure from the Burrow. He uncapped two Butterbeers and placed them beside the plates.

He could smell the sausages now. They made his mouth water. He hadn't eaten meat in well over two weeks, all the forests and mountains had provided were mushrooms and roots, all bitter and dry. He threw knives and forks onto the tables with haste.

Hermione shifted in her chair as he walked back to check on his cookings. Some of the roots that Hermione had scavenged in the forest made for great seasoning, so Harry added them and watched as the sausages turned a nice shade of brown. He threw the rest of the meat in as well, happy to note that they would be able to enjoy a decent meal in less than ten minutes. For the first time in a long while he felt contented.

A slight grumble arose from the chair and Harry wheeled around. Hermione was rubbing her eyes with her knuckles, her mouth open in a yawn. Even before she had opened her lids her nostrils flared. The girl sniffed at the air and gazed around the tent, curious as to where the smell was coming from. Harry reckoned that it smelled as delightful to her as it did to him.

"Morning," He said to her when she saw him standing bent over their dinner. "Or, well, evening, but you know what I mean."

"Harry," Hermione mumbled, giving a final yawn. "I thought you were outside sitting guard?" The tone in her voice was one of forced sternness; her eyes told Harry a different story. Sure, he _should_ be guarding the tent, just in case, but they had set up so many different hexes and jinxes and enchantments and incantations that it was impossible for them to be snuck up on. If anyone, anyone at all, were to come closer to their makeshift fortress than two hundred feet, alarms would go off inside the tent itself. No one other than the caster of the spell should hear it, ensuring their safety. If Death Eaters decided to go on a search through the Forbidden Forest, they would know.

"I was," Harry said. "But I couldn't take it anymore. Not today, Hermione."

"Do I need to ask why you are cooking meat over our brazier?" Hermione questioned, folding her legs underneath her and draping the book of runes over the armrest to mark her last page. "Or should I ask you how you came by it? Although I might have some ideas about that."

It had been so long since a smirk had tugged at his lips that the sensation almost felt queer. Yet now Harry was smiling; this little back-and-forth was so precious to him because it reminded him of the days when Hermione would scold him for leaving the Gryffindor dormitory after hours. It was a brief gust of normalcy that he hadn't even known he needed.

"I reckon it's best to keep the questions to yourself tonight," Harry replied. "Besides, it would be a shame to spend Christmas Eve without a proper dinner."

At first the look on Hermione's face was one of puzzlement. Then her expression lit up and her eyes began to sparkle. "Is it really December already?" she asked, a tiny smile twitching at her lips. It dropped as quickly as it came. "Strange..."

Harry nodded, turning over the sausages with a fork and watching as the grease sizzled. "You've got that right. I hate the thought of not getting a sweater this time around."

She gave a shaky laugh and sniffed; holding back the tears. She had gotten very good at that and it hurt Harry to the core. During the day she would at least try to be a semblance of herself, even though she failed at it. Still, she always managed to answer his questions or sit out her hours of guard duty. Furthermore, she did so without complaint. Harry admired this more than his vocabulary allowed him to say. She was so incredibly strong and resilient. Even with the Horcrux around her neck the refused to let the tears fill up her eyes. It wasn't until she believed Harry to be asleep that she gave them permission to spring free.

At times Harry would lie in bed and stare at the canvas overheard, listening to the sound of the rain beating down on the roof of the tent, hoping to find solace or comfort in the steady rhythm. And when his consciousness finally began to slip away from him and the world was enveloped in a darkness that soothed the spirit, he heard her voice, dragging him from this faux reality with such violence that he sometimes found it hard to breathe. He wouldn't betray himself and let her know that he was awake. He hated hearing the sound of her weeping, her weeping for Ron, their friends, their extended families, but he wasn't going to stop her from doing it either. Crying had a strange sense of healing about it. Harry understood that the tears she shed gave her another chance of doing better the next day.

Now here she was again, pressing her hand below her nose and trying her absolute hardest to not show her emotions. There was no point in telling her to stop the charade. Keeping up her front was just another way of trying to keep herself grounded.

So instead of telling her to let it out, Harry abandoned his cooking and went over to her. He sank to his knees and made sure that she was looking at him. When he met her eyes he choked up ever so slightly. Those mirthless orbs added to his own pain, but he would do whatever he possibly could to have them gloss over with joy tonight. Even if it was only for half a second.

"Hey, listen, please," Harry said, and she did. "I know it's hard. I miss him too. I miss _them_ too. I also want to go over there and sit down at the table, smile with them, laugh with them. And we will be able to do those things again soon, just watch."

He had avoided Ron's name purposely. They hadn't spoken it between them since he had Apparated to wherever he might have gone. Harry feared that it might trigger something in either one of them and he wasn't prepared to face the consequences.

Hermione gave a little nod. "You're right, Harry. We just have to work as hard as we can to make sure that we will be around for Christmas next year." Then her voice broke. "But I just miss him so, so much, Harry. I can't stop thinking about where he might be, who he's with. We haven't heard anything from Potter Watch in weeks, so we don't even know if he is alive or not." She buried her face in her palms and began to cry in earnest.

"Don't say that," Harry said. He was hardly aware of the tone he had used. Hermione started up, her shoulders jerking. She stopped crying and looked at Harry from between her fingers, as if her hands would be able to cover some great sense of shame.

"I know you love him." Harry said. With ever the amount of caution he laid a hand on her knee. "And I know he loves you too. He wouldn't allow himself to die before he had a chance to tell you that himself, Hermione."

"Huh, wh- what do-"

"Oh please, Hermione," Harry could not prevent a chuckle from rumbling in his throat. "It is quite easy to see. Though I guess I truly knew it when I saw you sleeping together at Grimmauld Place. He loves you, Hermione. More than he's ever loved anyone else."

She wiped at her eyes with her sleeve and sniffed her nose. A smile was creeping back onto her face, but it still needed a dash of motivation.

"I get it, though," Harry said. "I understand the appeal of a person who you love so much that it hurts. I understand how it feels to think about them every time you wake up and just before you fall asleep. And I miss the red hair too. I miss him. I miss Ginny."

Now he was looking at his feet. Much like with Ron, Harry hadn't spoken Ginny's name out loud for the longest of times. Giving it voice now felt both liberating as well as gut-wrenching.

When he looked back up, Hermione gave him a stare that told him that she had forgotten all about that. In a minute she would start feeling guilty, but he would not have it. The objective for tonight was to forget for a while, not to reminisce.

He pulled a smile onto his face with some effort but he made it work. He gave a rub over her knee, a gesture that he hoped she would perceive as comforting. Then he turned back to the sausages over the brazier. They were looking to be almost done. He topped them off with some water from the still warm kettle and allowed them to simmer in the gravy before dividing them between their plates.

Hermione joined him at the table at his request. They said very little as they ate and whatever comment was made spoke delight over the food and drinks. The Butterbeer almost tasted like liquid happiness. Once they were stuffed good and proper they leaned back in their chairs, content for the time being. Tonight they would sleep well and in the morning they would look for another camping ground. It was strange, submitting himself to the comfort of the night, but Harry wouldn't have it any other way.

They spent the majority of the night talking about what they would do once all the work lay behind them. Hermione had some very strong ideas about working with the Ministry of Magic and fighting for the rights of all magical creatures. She had confided in Harry that she wanted to set up a foundation, the advanced version if S.P.E.W., if you will. She also said that she intended to name it after Dobby. While she had only met the little Elf a few times before, Dobby had become a shining light for what could be changed.

Harry did not know what came over him. It could have been the endearing way in which Hermione spoke of Dobby, or perhaps it was the forethought of having to fight an uphill battle before either of them could realize their dreams. He only knew that he broke. He didn't even realize it until the first tear dripped down from his nose. Even before Hermione caught on he was sobbing like there was no one else around.

"Harry," Hermione shook his shoulders and he looked up at her, his eyes red and puffy, and he felt shame wash over him. This was exactly why Hermione cried in private. Now she was forced to see him reduced to a sullen mess. And it was only getting worse. He was losing control over his breathing and the tears wouldn't stop coming.

"Harry, please," Hermione said, never taking her own eyes away from his. "Harry, listen to me. Let it out." He shook his head, but she grabbed his chin to keep it still. She was determined to see him through this. She wasn't going to allow him to succumb to his misery, not on his own.

One of her hands went to his chest, gauging his breathing. She spoke his name for a third time and tapped against the area of his breastbone. The Horcrux beneath her fingertip gave a metallic chime.

Harry was filled with a slow type of understanding. The Horcrux was making his emotional burst much, much worse. He wanted to take it away, but his fingers were too shaky to get a proper hold on the chain. Hermione guided his hands down into his lap and he kept them there as the undid the chain. She threw the Horcrux across the tent and it landed on one of the beds.

Relief came rolling through Harry like a tsunami. A weight was lifted from his heart and his mind became clearer. It was as if he was just now realizing where he was, what he was doing. His cheeks were wet and his eyes were stinging, but he felt better. Even more so when his gaze found Hermione's. Her eyes were sparkling too, her own tears held back by sheer force of will. They graced each other with watery smiles.

Hermione pressed her forehead to his, a hand in his neck. This sense of closeness wrapped his heart in warmth. Just having Hermione here was enough to make him feel invincible for this little window in time.

"T-Thanks, Hermione," he said once he felt secure enough to use his voice again. "Just... thanks."

"It's alright, Harry," she replied, wiping the final trial of wetness from his cheek. There was nothing more to be said. They both just knew it.

Harry was the one to initiate. Later he would question himself why he had done it. He would even argue that it had been stupid, that it could have destroyed everything that they had build up over the years. Not just for him and Hermione, but for Ron and Ginny also. Only now it did not feel stupid. It felt like the right thing to do.

The kiss was soft and careful. Harry pressed his own lips to Hermione's ever so lightly, making sure that he wasn't overstepping any bounds, that she could draw back whenever she wanted to. But she didn't. Hermione yielded to his kiss as easily as he had initiated it, closing her eyes and leaning in to him for better contact. She smelled as sweet as honeysuckle and her mouth tasted of raspberries, as well as a vague hint of spearmint toothpaste.

They broke off the intimate display and looked at each other. Both had their cheeks flushed, both of them breathing just a little bit heavier. Harry took a second to process it all, to think about what they were doing, but every thought was robbed from his mind when Hermione kissed him again.

They were bolder now; Harry's hands found her back and one of them traveled up to rake through her bushy hair. Her locks curled around his fingers almost as if they were made for them. Hermione draped her arms around his neck and moved in closer, her breasts bumping against Harry's chest and allowing the both of them to feel the heat of the other through their clothes.

Her lips parted and Harry needn't be told. His tongue slipped out and found hers. She was almost shy at first, but when he coaxed her with his she picked up her pace. Before long they were lost inside each other's mouths, tongues at play in a battle for dominance which neither of them was going to win.

When Harry looked into her eyes once more, he understood that they were both yearning for something like this, something physical and something real. There was no way to stop this from happening now. They would regret it more if they did, despite how much it would hurt the both of them in the end.

Harry got to his feet and pulled Hermione along. They shared fleeting kisses as they moved towards one of the beds, soft pecks that kept up their growing excitement. When they halted by the bed Harry swooped her in close, ravaging her mouth with his own. It had been so long since he had been able to hold -Ginny- a girl like this. It had been so long that now he almost ached for it and he hadn't even realized it. And as Hermione's fingers slipped beneath his shirt and traced the lines of his abs, he shuddered, his mind travelling back to those warm summer afternoons with Ginny by the lake and the way she always managed to make his skin tingle with the lightest of ministrations.

Both of them were living through this fallacy with the knowledge that it was for the greater good. A night of pretending was all they needed in order to take another step forward. Call it a white lie, if that helps anything.

Hermione released a small moan when they parted and she pressed her forehead to his once more, leaning into him when his hands went to her back. Her breathing was uneven, her face flushed red. She moved her body along with his, guiding him to the spots that would make her shiver with pleasure.

She removed his glasses for him and suddenly the world around him ceased to exist. His eyes couldn't see past Hermione, but she was all that he needed to focus on. He sought out her kiss once more, noting how her hands were beginning to grow restless. They were teasing the hem of his sweater, so he raised his arms above his head to give in to her wishes. She removed the garment and tossed it aside. She removed her own straight after.

For a moment Harry did not dare breathe. The fire in the brazier was still roaring. The flames danced like graceful ballerinas and threw shadows along the canvas walls. Hermione's skin appeared to be molded out of bronze in the light of the fire, a living statue with every nook and cranny polished to perfection.

Their lips clashed like soldiers at war. She pressed in close again and their naked skins glided along each other, adding a whole new dimension of pleasure into the mix. Harry was beginning to grow incapable of forming thoughts. Every kiss, every touch, every single breath that Hermione took was enough to intoxicate him and blur his mind. Where Ginny was a solid figure in his thoughts fifteen minutes ago, she was now beginning to fade at the edges. He resigned to his fate when she was enveloped by the darkness. It helped take some of the hurt away.

Hermione fell backwards onto the bed, dragging Harry with her. He lie on top of her, one knee propped up to keep from crushing her with his weight. Their lips did not part throughout this process. They both kicked off their shoes and socks in clumsy fashion, but they did not pause to think about them. They were clawing at each other before the soft thud of soles hitting the ground filled the tent.

Harry released the kiss, but Hermione held him in place a second longer than he had planned on, pulling at his lower lip with her teeth. She giggled when he gasped, and he chuckled in turn. He rather liked it when Ginny was playful in their endeavors, so this suited his style perfectly.

He left her mouth alone, trailing his kisses down to her neck and collarbones. Hermione sucked in air through her teeth, heaving her chest up. Harry smiled at this eagerness and rewarded her with a peck on her left breast, just one, with a twang of her brasier for added cheek. He was truly lost in his arousal now. All he could was see how things played out from this point.

He enjoyed watching Hermione's head lol from side to side as he delivered smooch after smooch on her creamy skin. He was getting quite eager himself and truth to be told he was never the best at foreplay. Ginny helped him a lot, but she still liked to complain that he was rushing things. Not that she minded in the long run; he would never stop his teasing and and goading until she was almost crying for him. If she did not reach a climax, he hadn't done his job right.

Hermione at least deserved the same treatment. He kissed her breast again, not only the left but also the right this time. He alternated between the two, using his hand on the other. Hermione began to produce more sounds, though she stifled them by biting into the back of her hand. Harry would see to that in a little while. He would hear her voice cry out in delight, even if it was the last thing he would ever do.

The rushed fashion in which they were going about it only added fuel to the fire. Just like Harry, Hermione was rather impatient. She rose so suddenly that Harry started up, but his little cry in surprise was lost when her breasts pressed against his face. She undid her bra and discarded it. For a moment Harry could say nothing at all, rather taking a step back to look at her.

She really was beautiful. Harry had realized this for the first time when he was only fourteen. As Hermione had walked on the arm of Viktor Krum, Harry had felt a pang of jealousy boiling in his gut, an unknown sense of violation washing over him. The one thing that had kept him from pursuing the crush he had developed were his affections for Cho Chang. When that debacle was over with, Hermione had returned to his mind as his best friend, not his love interest. And when time went on he grew to love another, one just as fiery and passionate as Hermione.

And now here Hermione was, gazing up at him with eyes filled with a drunken kind of desire. Her bare breasts heaved up and down with every breath she took and Harry almost felt hypnotized by the sight of it. He unbuckled his belt without speaking and dropped his trousers to his ankles. He stepped out of them and kissed her, bending over to meet her lips properly.

His hands went to her hair again. He couldn't stop touching it, so soft, so luscious. He only halted when her own hands landed on his groin. He gasped out loud, unprepared for her sudden action. His member had already grown stiff in his boxers and now every hair on his body stood on end, such was the feeling of her palm caressing his his arousal.

She began a slow stroke that made him buck his hips. It had been so long since he had been touched there. He hadn't even been able to provide himself relief, so from the very first second her fingers curled around his shaft he felt like he could orgasm right then. Still, he bit down hard and made sure to keep his composure. Hermione needed this as much as he did and it would be no good to end it before it began.

He nudged her against her shoulder and she took the hint, spreading herself out on her back. Harry moved back on top of her and undid the zipper of her trousers as he kissed her. He gave her a second to breathe as he removed them altogether. He threw himself back onto the bed, lying by her side.

Hands moved towards their destinations with expert precision. Hermione's fingers curled around his manhood again, making him see stars behind his eyelids. He put one of his own hands on her breast, guiding the other over her stomach and slipping it inside of her panties. She hissed when he ran a finger between her folds.

"Harry," Hermione moaned, vocalizing the first and only word since they had begun their endeavors. She kissed him hard. Harry returned the gesture and couldn't help from giving his pleasure voice either. He thought he would explode when she slipped into his underpants, but he managed to keep himself composed through sheer will.

He slipped a finger inside her walls and that made her cry out, hard enough to be heard from outside the tent. Harry himself was moaning as well, though he hardly even realized it. He was too taken up in the here and now, his desire clouded his senses beyond rational thought. He added a second finger and Hermione buried her face in his neck, her pleasure reverberating through his skin.

Harry couldn't wait anymore. He removed his boxers and Hermione's panties as well. Now, with no more clothes between them, Harry had never felt closer to her, nor had he ever loved her more. He took a position above her and she spread her legs enough for him to maneuver his manhood in front of her entrance. He looked at her with a questioning stare, but she only nodded and grabbed his arm by the pit of his elbow for support.

He moved his length in slowly, careful not to hurt her. Harry wasn't sure whether she had done this before, but something told him that she had experienced the sensation before. She hissed a little as her walls adjusted to his size, but it did not take her long, nor did she seem like she was unaccustomed to a sweaty, grunting male lying on top of her. Harry figured that Ron and Hermione had done more than sleep on the night that they had arrived at Grimmauld Place. She had comforted Ron in the only way she thought possible.

Being inside of her was like being wrapped in velvet from head to toe. One of her hands landed on his shoulder while the other kept a firm grip on his arm. He waited for her breathing to stabilize and began to move as soon as her expression softened up.

There was no sense of reality for him anymore. Hermione blocked all of that out with her presence, with the feeling of her tight walls convulsing around his member, with the tiny gasps and moans that she produced that were like a demented sort of music to his ears. Every now and again the flames from the brazier would illuminate different parts of her body, which gleamed with sweat and made her shine like a pale star. His heart was pulsing in his temples with every stroke of his hips. His testicles were tightening below his belly and he could feel the climax tugging at his entire body, but he wouldn't cave just yet.

He kissed her again and this time it was perfection. Where the previous meetings of lips had been fantastic, they were still intended to test the waters and discover one another. This one was much more feral and raw. They kissed so hard that Harry felt his lips bruise.

Harry couldn't tell if he was moaning, panting or screaming. He knew he was making sounds, but none other than the ones Hermione produced would reach his ears. He almost felt the two of them melting together, becoming one. With every thrust he could feel her tightening around his length, bringing the both of them to new heights.

Hermione took control quite suddenly. After pushing and shoving for a bit she managed to get him on his back, his penis pointing in the air like an exclamation mark from within black pubic hair. She took a hold of the shaft and rolled the skin back, then lowered her pelvis and eased him back into her core. Slowly, she began to gyrate her hips until she had found a steady and pleasing rhythm.

Harry reached out, nearly blinded by his arousal, and cupped her breasts in his hands. She groaned when he flicked at her nipples and moaned when he squeezed into the fleshy mounds, alternating the pressure and never ceasing his movements. Little by little he felt the end coming on, and this time he wasn't so certain that he could hold it back.

As it turned out he didn't have to. Hermione threw her head back and uttered a cry that half of Hogsmeade could've heard. Her walls tightened around his manhood so forcefully that the pleasure overtook him in an instant. He wanted to tell Hermione to get off so that he wouldn't release inside her, but it was much too late for such a warning. Furthermore, Hermione was still convulsing with her own orgasm, so all Harry could do was scream out loud and spill his essence inside of her. As it trickled out of her along his shaft, Ginny's name passed his lips in an almost silent moan.

When Hermione found her voice again, it was Ron's name that she whispered into the night.

Eventually Hermione moved off of him and spread herself out beside him. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her in close. She didn't protest and only sighed in a strange sort of bliss when he buried his nose in her locks.

They knew what they had done. Had the circumstances been the slightest bit different, none of this would've happened. In the long run they might question their actions, but neither of them would truly regret what had happened between the two of them. If anything, it allowed them to understand each other on an emotional level that would have been out of reach for other friends.

What they did realize, however, was that this was something that would never leave this tent, not ever. Who knew, they might come to each other for solace again, or maybe they would not. Either option would be fine with them, for they understood the need to let it happen. What absolutely could not happen was either Ron or Ginny finding out. They could try to explain whatever they wanted, but they wouldn't be understood.

Nobody would ever be able to understand.

For now it was a good feeling to not have to think about this. Harry felt sleep stealing him away from the world as the night grew darker around their tent. Just when he was on the fringe of his dreams, dreams that would be filled with red hair and the flowery scent of Ginny's shampoo, he heard Hermione whisper in the dark.

" _Ron mustn't ever find out."_

* * *

Ronald Weasley was sitting in his room at Shell Cottage, watching as the moon glistened over the ceaselessly raging water. His eyes weren't really seeing, though. His ears were doing most of the work.

In the middle of the room an orb of light was floating, which pulsed around the edges in the rhythm of a heart. From this orb sounds were drifting like whispers in the wind. For the longest time now the sounds had been intelligible, but it wasn't until he deciphered a string of words that he felt his stomach churn and tears rise to his eyes.

In the stillness of the night the orb whispered to him " _Ron mustn't ever find out."_


End file.
